Something
by mayrwyn
Summary: Other people still looked down their noses at him. Still gave him looks he pretended not to see, and whispered things he pretended not to hear.
1. Chapter 1: Chupacabra

Daryl knew he weren't like other people. Hell, he weren't even like Merle, and if there were someone he was gonna be like he figured that would be the one. He'd known as much since he was a kid, though, and if he'd learned one thing since then it was that nothin' weren't ever gonna change.

Even now, it weren't all that different. Well, mostly nothin' was different.

Merle was gone.

That weren't nothin', though.

Merle had been gone before. Hell, for a while he'd been gone more than he'd been around. Even if this felt like an entire different kind of gone, the kind of gone that might just be forever, and that hurt worse than just about anything Daryl had felt in his life. (The heart kinda hurt, anyway. He weren't gonna think about the other. Thinkin' on somethin' what was done over never changed a damn thing.) Truth was, thinkin' about Merle bein' gone for good didn't just hurt, it was scary as hell. There weren't many things Daryl would admit to being scared of, but life without Merle out there somewhere was about as scared as he got. Hell, it hurt worse than anything, and there was some tough shit floatin' around in his head waitin' for him to make his peace with it.

And o'course there were dead people walkin' 'round tryin' to eat people. Probly said somethin' about him that walking dead fuckers came behind Merle bein' gone, but they did. Merle was the only person what ever gave a fuck about Daryl, or ever would. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole who would stand between Daryl and whatever (except Merle) wanted to hurt him. Always had been.

He felt about as useless as he ever had, and Daryl was an expert in all the different shades and nuances of useless. Not all that much had changed, when you stopped and really thought about it.

Maybe for other people, but not for him. And seein' as how Daryl was used to things that were true for other people without bein' true for him, even that was pretty much the same. That weren't nothin', just the way the world went about it's business.

Other people still looked down their noses at him. Still gave him looks he pretended not to see, and whispered things he pretended not to hear.

But Daryl saw. He heard.

Weren't nothing, though. That stuff, it weren't what was important.

And what was important certainly wasn't Carol Peletier. There was a time, back when he was an ignorant kid who thought that if he just got away from his old man he might learn to be like other people, that the curve of her neck and her cute little nose might have convinced him to try to be what he weren't. He'd let himself get all worked up thinkin' 'bout her and then see if he could stand her hands on him long enough to give her that stuff other people seemed to need so much.

But he wasn't a kid anymore, the world was full of dead people wanting to take a hunk out of ya, and he didn't have time to pretend that he wanted anything more than to look at her profile against a sunset every now and again. O'course, if he _were_ gonna try to rub against somebody, he figured she'd be the one he'd wanna rub up against. But that weren't nothin' to bother thinkin' about. Not what was important.

No, the only thing that Daryl reckoned came close to bein' important was that he might be the only one who could find that little girl. Sophia. Tiny little thing, who was out there alone and scared in a world that wanted to eat her. Sometimes, he pictured her mama's face when he came back with the girl trotting along beside him. That weren't the most important thing, but it was a thing that was important. It weren't exactly nothin', but it weren't something, neither.

Sophia. Daryl knew what it was like to be small and alone and scared in a world that would just as soon see you dead as alive. He couldn't do anything about the world, and he knew there weren't a damn thing he could do about the scared. Even if there weren't dead fuckers walkin' 'round, Sophia would likely be scared of a lot of things for a long time. Considerin' what her old man had been like an' all. Weren't a damn thing ever gonna make that anything other than what it was.

But he could fix the alone. He could bring her back to her mama. In his tent in the middle of the night, he even thought a little about tellin' her that having a bastard for an old man weren't nothing unusual, and maybe sayin' that she had a mama who loved her the right way and how that might could make all the difference. Hell, might even tell her he would be around, so she wouldn't be alone really, 'cause his old man had been one hell of a bastard and she could talk to him about stuff if she needed to.

Or, since he weren't no pussy, he'd just find a nice fat rabbit and cook it up for her instead, seein' as how she'd be hungry when he got her back.

Sophia.

She was _something_.


	2. Chapter 2: Nebraska

He weren't some errand boy for some bitch who never said a word to him, but said plenty about him with a look on her face like she just bit into something rotten. Like he's gonna go out there and look for grown ass men who should be takin' care themselves. Come back or not, weren't nothing to him.

Sophia, she were somethin'.

She'd done been gone already while he'd been pretendin' he could could save her.

Ought to have known better than think he could be anything other than what he always had been, anyways. Weren't ever gonna be that the likes o' him could do somethin' like that.

He'd been trackin' shit for long as he could remember. Started out back afore Merle disappeared the first time, stumblin' along behind him, huffin' and puffin' tryin' to keep up. Merle would squat down and point at somethin', explain to him what it meant. Started him out with a sling shot, but weren't long 'til Merle stole a pellet gun an' started Daryl out shootin' little things. So's he could eat when he run out the house and hid in the woods.

It kept him alive after Merle were gone.

Shoulda found her. If he'd been half worth his salt he woulda, too.

Shown himself for the fool he was now, though, hadn't he? Struttin' around like he were somebody, promisin' that girl's mama he'd find her. Thinkin' 'bout stuff he had no right to think about, too. Like the way her face didn't screw up in disgust when she looked at him.

Hell, partly her fault anyway. Sayin' all that stuff.

 _You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did for her in his whole life._ And _, You're every bit as good as them._

She had him all full of himself. Had him daydreamin' like some fool teenager, actin' like maybe he mattered some. She even said it. Said she couldn't lose him. Were just her bein' scared that her girl was gone, but she still said it.

He'd been so sure he could do it. Save Sophia. All that little girl had to do was stay alive 'til he tracked her down. She survived that sorry prick of an old man, but soon as Daryl decided she was his to... To what, anyhow? Be somebody too? Protect? Hell, if he were gonna be that then he shoulda took that old man o'hers out way back at the start and then not let 'em outta his sight.

She weren't his fer nothin'. Weren't anything like his. And neither was her damn mama. An' it didn't matter what he thought he might maybe be able to be for Carol one day, not after he broke the only promise he ever coulda made anyway. Couldn't promise her anythin' else, but he thought he could promise her that. Now she likely couldn't ever look at his face and not remember what he couldn't do. Not know her little girl was dead 'cause Daryl were too slow and stupid.

Never shoulda been lookin' for her no ways. Shoulda left these folks a long time ago, before the CDC even, and not quit 'til he'd found Merle. Or at least stayed right there in that quarry 'til Merle come to find him. Merle was his. He was Merle's. That's all there was and all there ever would be.

An' if Merle were gone, then he was just his. Not these people's. Group o' uppity stupid city folk what were just gonna get themselves killed of, and probly him too if he weren't careful.

Hell, they didn't like him none anyhow. Snickerin' at him at all the time. Lookin' down their noses at what he brung in, actin' like squirrel weren't perfectly good food even while they went about not starvin' to fuckin' death 'cause he killed enough of 'em.

He didn't owe nobody nothin'. Thought it were better in a group than alone, but weren't so sure anymore.

One thing he were certain sure about, though. Lori Grimes could kiss his ass.

He looked her straight in the eye and said, "I'm done lookin' for people."


End file.
